


Meet the Sachses

by ZoS



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Catch me trying not to swear too much since this is a Midwestern family and a Miranda, Completed, Drama, Established Relationship, F/F, Family, Hurt/Comfort, Other, Romance, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-13 11:59:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17487662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoS/pseuds/ZoS
Summary: Andy loves her parents. Miranda hates Cincinnati. Together, they have to survive Thanksgiving.





	1. Impending Doom

**Author's Note:**

> So, a lot of you have asked for a multi-chapter story. Hope this one hits the spot!

"Um, oops."

Andy didn't need to look to know that Miranda was rolling her eyes behind her big sunglasses. "What now?"

"Nothing. Nothing," she answered quickly. "Just running a little low on gas, that's all."

This time, Miranda took off her sunglasses and threw her a sharp look. "I thought you said the tank was full."

"Did I?" Andy's voice rose an octave or two, as it usually did when Miranda used that accusing tone with her. Miranda's eyes rolled again and, with a snarle of disgust, she put her sunglasses back on and turned to the window. Andy didn't take it personally. "Don't worry, I'm on it. There's a gas station about a mile away. We should be fine until we get there."

No response. It was better that way. Andy knew exactly what Miranda was thinking right now: "This whole trip is a waste of time (and gas)," and "You should have listened to me."

Miranda had wanted to have her assistant arrange for transportation, _like on every trip she took_ , but Andy had insisted and eventually won with her argument that her parents would surely frown upon them rolling to their house in a chauffeured car. Miranda had finally relented, probably because she'd known she couldn't afford to lose any more points with the Sachses.

But now Miranda would use Andy's gas miscalculation as her "I told you so" and Andy would have to take it because she knew Miranda's lashing out was only 10% usual bitchiness and 90% anxiety over meeting Andy's parents for the first time.

She and Miranda had been together for a little over 15 months. Her parents had known for ten; the rest of the world for seven.

As was usually the case with the press, her and Miranda's scandalous story had gotten its 15 minutes, but soon everyone had lost interest once they'd realized there was no actual scandal. For once, Andy hadn't been disheartened that media consumers found happiness boring.

Her parents, on the other hand, were taking a lot of issues with the arrangement: the age difference, their professional past together, the fact that Miranda was considered by the whole world to be a Grade A Bitch.

Andy had spent the last ten months trying to pacify her parents, telling them that Miranda was a lot sweeter once you got to know her, that age was just a number and they weren't doing anything illegal or even immoral. That Miranda made her really, really happy. But then again, she'd also been the one to tell them about her boss torturing her and making her feel like shit (well, she wouldn't use that language with her Midwestern parents, but they'd gotten the gist of it, enough to believe her).

Now the problem was making them unbelieve all the things she'd said before, or at least convincing them to forget enough to see Miranda's other, better sides.

For the most part, she thought, it had worked--slowly, gradually, and awkwardly--and now, at long last, she believed her parents were finally beginning to thaw, if this trip was anything to go by.

They had been the ones to call and invite her to spend Thanksgiving with them. Andy had been the one to tell them that she, Miranda, and the kids would love to come.

\---

_Silence ensued._

_Her mom didn't say anything. Andy didn't say anything right back. Then, finally, "Well--"_

_"Miranda makes a great gravy," Andy cut her off, then immediately squeezed her eyes shut and grimaced because that was a lie. A big, fat lie. Miranda barely ever stepped foot in her own kitchen besides to eat--that's what she had a cook and an Andy for--but she'd been so afraid of the rejection that the words had just tumbled out of her mouth._

_And besides, perhaps if her parents actually spent some time with Miranda, they would see that she weren't all that bad as Andy had once made her out to be._

_"Oh, well, that's--" her mom began, but Andy cut her off, again._

_"And it's just, we were gonna spend Thanksgiving together, the four of us, so, you know, I can't really back out and..."_ Shut up, shut up, shut up. _She couldn't stop rambling. She and Miranda hadn't even made any Thanksgiving plans yet; Miranda didn't even care about Thanksgiving if it wasn't a photoshoot theme. "Yeah..." Andy finished lamely._

_Silence, again._

_Then, murmuring. Her mom was talking to someone else--her dad--doing her best to cover the mouthpiece. Andy waited anxiously, biting the skin off her lower lip. After an eternity, her mom's voice returned, stronger this time, if a bit unsure._

_"Andy, we would love to have you all over."_

\---

Miranda had been a lot harder to convince, but with enough pleading and dirty sex, she'd eventually caved.

And now here they were, their rented car pulling to a stop at a gas station in Cincinnati a little after noon. Caroline and Cassidy were passed out in the backseat while Miranda did her very best to ignore Andy's presence. Rolling her eyes, Andy left the vehicle and closed the door softly so as to not wake the slumbering kids.

While she pumped the car full of gas--and cursed the guy from the airport who'd assured her the tank was full--she looked around. A few other cars were parked at the station, in front of the line of buildings: a restroom, a grocery store, a coffee shop, and a _McDonald's_.

Her stomach made a small, grumbling sound when her eyes landed on the last one--just in time for lunch.

Putting the pump back in its place when she was done, she returned to the driver's seat and turned around, nudging Cassidy's leg gently. The girl woke with a start and a dried line of drool on the side of her mouth, her tired eyes slowly focusing on Andy.

"Hey," Andy said softly, getting Miranda's attention as well. "What do you say to some food?"

***

Andy had known she was poking a bear when she'd offered Miranda Priestly's kids _McDonald's_ for lunch; what she hadn't counted on was actually the kids being the bears.

She'd forgotten about Cassidy's pledge to herself to eat healthier (and classier) like her mother--so long as it didn't include chocolate chip cookies, bacon, and _Papa John's_ pizza with extra cheese--and, somewhere between New York and Ohio, Caroline had decided that she was a vegetarian.

So now she was standing in the _McDonald's_ short line with a still bitter Miranda and two pouting pre-teens. And she was supposed to convince her parents that they were a sweet family.

But then, to the kids' shock and Andy's relief, Miranda assumed her best _Runway_ voice and said, "Girls, this is where Andrea brought us and this is where you'll eat, unless you would rather stay hungry because we're not stopping anywhere else until we get to Mr. and Mrs. Sachs's house. Caroline, you can have something vegetarian." (Which of course she wouldn't.)

Looking appropriately chastised, the girls acquiesced and Andy turned back to the menu on the wall with a smug smile. Until Miranda astounded all of them by saying, "Andrea, order me a mushroom & Swiss burger and a latte," and strode off in search of a table. Even though most of them were available.

Andy was busy staring after her until she realized that the line was gone and the girl behind the counter was waiting impatiently. "Oh, yeah, um..."

The twins ended up enjoying their meals and Miranda didn't complain about hers, which Andy took as her trying really hard to be tolerable during this trip. She tried to make conversation, which the girls indulged her with for a while, before falling into silence.

It felt like there was an impendind doom lurking ahead of them and everyone could sense it. Andy hoped like crazy that this visit wouldn't prove disastorous.

The rest of the ride passed quietly with the twins playing with their new _iPhone_ s in the backseat (even Andy couldn't get over how you could now _touch_ your phone's screen instead of pressing keys) and Miranda trying, Andy noticed, not to wring her hands.

Her right index finger mindlessly traced the spot on her ring finger, where Stephen's ring had once adorned the skin, and before that the twins' father's. Andy wondered momentarily if Miranda ever regretted her involvement with someone as complicated as Andy (well, it wasn't so much that Andy was complicated as their relationship was, at least to people looking from the outside) when no one would bat an eye if she married another man.

But then Andy remembered that all of her previous in-laws hadn't exactly loved Miranda (and she hadn't loved them back) and knew that it wouldn't matter.

Something people wouldn't assume about Miranda, who got whatever she wanted whenever she wanted, was that she actually had to deal with a lot of rejection. In her personal life, anyway. Two failed marriages and a string of resentful acquaintances in her wake attested to that.

And now Miranda was preparing for another rejection and here was the catch: as Andy had learned from late night conversations between pillows and blankets and warm, naked bodies, Miranda had never loved another partner as much as she did Andy.

Which had made Andy want to cry with joy because she had never loved anyone in her life as much as she loved Miranda. Period.

So meeting Andy's parents must be even more nerve-wracking for her because she'd have to prove to people she'd never met that she was good enough for their daughter. So their daughter wouldn't be talked into leaving her like all the others had.

But Andy had no intention of leaving Miranda--not now and not in a million years, regardless of her parents' feelings about her. Miranda was more than good enough for her; Miranda was everything to her, and if she let her, Andy would like to spend the rest of her life by her side. Maybe then her parents would realize that what they had was real and not a passing infatuation and learn to accept Miranda. But if they didn't, well, that would be their problem.

Andy had been accepted into another family that she'd grown to adore, and she wasn't giving that up for anything.

In an attempt to reassure Miranda of that, she reached across to her and squeezed her shoulder, snapping her out of her own silent musings. When their eyes met, Andy flashed her what she hoped was her warmest smile and Miranda gave a small one back. Then covered the hand on her shoulder.

But by the time she finally parked the car in her parents' driveway, behind her their black _Mazda_ , Miranda's posture was rigid and her lips pursed.

Andy opened her mouth to say... what? "We're here?" Or something equally inane and obvious, but Caroline piped up from behind her before she had a chance to, "Is that your house, Andy?"

"Used to be, yeah," she replied fondly. "This is where I grew up." She looked at the porch with the wooden swing she used to spend her time on for hours on end as a child and lounge on with a book and a quilt draped over her legs in high school. The grass beneath looked freshly cut and she got a flashback of her dad in his khaki shorts getting up at some ungodly morning hour to mow it, and in the process waking her and her mom up. She could almost smell the memory.

This house held so many wonderful memories of a happy childhood and a loving family, and in that moment she really needed her parents to like Miranda and this visit to pass pleasantly because this couldn't be something she wouldn't be able to share with her parents.

"It's so--" Andy turned to look at Caroline, knowing she would say something snooty and condescending like "small" or "lame" because it definitely was no Manhattan townhouse.

But luckily, she closed her mouth and Cassidy kindly finished for her, "Cozy." Andy flashed them both an amused grin before opening her door and stepping out. They followed suit, stretching their tired limbs (like they'd just driven all the way from the airport). Miranda was the last one out of the car, though she looked two seconds away from climbing back inside and damanding that Andy drive them back to the airport.

She powered through, though, waiting for the other three to extract their suitcases from the trunk. Then, as if worried that Andy's parents were spying on them through the window with their "Miranda's flaws" bingo cards, she stepped up to the group and took her and Andy's suitcase herself.

Then they were making their way up the pathway, the twins admiring the raked autumn leaves, Miranda looking ready to bolt or fire someone--anyone; and Andy staring at the black, front door as if it was a black hole about to swallow all four of them.

She mounted the porch steps, wiped her feet on the doormat (Miranda did the same), raised her hand, took a deep breath, and knocked.


	2. It's Been So Long

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me? Naming Andy's mom after Anne Hathaway's mom because I lack originality? Absolutely.  
> The movie did it first by using her picture.

Barely three seconds went by before the door swung open and Miranda was a thousand percent certain that the Sachses had been standing with a hand on the handle, physically restraining themselves from running outside the second the car had pulled up. She actually appreciated that.

Now she was standing before a middle-aged woman (slightly younger than her, she thought grimly), no taller than her, but definitely no thinner or better dressed. She was wearing a pair of shapeless jeans and a big, red sweater the like of which, Miranda was sure, she had in bulk. And--dear god--she had _Thanksgiving_  socks on. Bright red socks (that didn't even match the color of her sweater) with animated turkeys on them.

Her arms flew around Andrea, tugging her close, and she buried her face in her daughter's neck and murmured, "Oh, my baby. My baby is home." Andrea hugged back tightly, smiling into her mother's hair, and Miranda felt almost guilty for the wedge she had inadvertantly driven between them in the last year.

Tearing her eyes away from the intimate moment, she focused on Richard Sachs instead, standing a couple of feet behind his wife. He, if possible, was dressed even more atrociously in a sweatshirt and pants set that was two different shades of navy. His eyes were dark and shooting daggers at Miranda, who stared right back, unflinchingly.

"Dad," Andrea said fondly upon releasing her mother, and he turned to her with a warm smile and engulfed her in his arms. Andrea's mother didn't even deign to look at the other people standing on her doorstep, instead choosing to rub her daughter's back.

Just before it could get any more uncomfortable (Caroline was beginning to fidget and Cassidy looked up at Miranda questioningly), Andrea took it upon herself to introduce her guests. Stepping back, she said, "Mom, Dad, this is Caroline"--she put her hand on top of Caroline's head, then did the same with her sister--"and Cassidy."

"Hello," her mother said with a gentle smile and Miranda was glad that she wasn't directing her disdain at her babies, because she could be mad at her all she wanted for taking her daughter's innocence, but her children were her limit. Andrea's dad actually extended his hand to them, much to her surprise, and thankfully the girls were respectful enough to shake it.

Then Andrea's hand was on her back as she said, "And this is Miranda."

Both Sachses' gazes turned to her and their smiles became much tighter and colder. She offered her own identical one instead of the toothful smile she usually gave to people she detested because she knew Andrea would be able to identify it instantly--after all, she had been the one to label it "devilish."

"Mr. and Mrs. Sachs, I've heard so much about you," she said diplomatically.

"Likewise." Richard nodded.

"My daughter speaks very highly of you," said Kate, looking like she didn't believe a word Andrea had said about her.

Miranda nodded anyway. Andrea smiled and bit her lip. The twins fidgeted some more. It was all very uncomfortable.

"Oh, let me just look at you, it's been so long," Kate broke the silence. Taking Andrea's face between her hands, she frowned. "Have you lost weight?" Her tone was sharp and accusing, and even though she wasn't looking at her, Miranda knew it was absolutely directed at her.

"No, Mom," Andrea chuckled. "I've actually gained a little weight."

"Hmm." She didn't look too convinced. Miranda ground her teeth. Of course these people would think she was starving their precious daughter because that was all that mattered to Miranda, wasn't it? She wondered if Andrea had told them that Miranda didn't want her looking anything like the emaciated models in her magazine (even if she'd only really come to that realization after experiencing Andrea in her full and glorious nudity).

"Well, don't worry," Kate continued, patting Andrea's arms. "We are going to fatten you up nice and well."

It physically pained Miranda to keep from rolling her eyes.

"Uh, why don't you come in?" Richard finally said--thank god--and stepped back, pulling his wife along with him. "Come on in."

Andrea came willingly, but the twins gave Miranda identical, hesitant looks until she subtly nodded and ushered them forward into the house, following behind.

The house wasn't big, but also not as tiny as she'd feared an Ohian house would be. Outside, she had been able to tell that it was two stories high, and somewhere in the back she could make out a staircase.

To her right was a small living room, the walls covered in some godawful, floral wallpaper. The living room was connected to both the dining room--she assumed, since it was just a big, wooden table with matching chairs several feet from the couch--and to a glass door with its light, pink curtains pulled back, revealing the view to a backyard.

To her left was the door to the kitchen, left open for her to smell their cooking dinner and see some of the room's layout: more wallpaper--different flowers; brown, marble countertop; a fridge that looked older than Andrea, and another, smaller dining table.

It all felt very... disgustingly homey.

"I hope Andy's told you that our family's Thanksgiving tradition is slightly different than other families'," Richard said, looking like he was searching Miranda's face for disapproval.

Before she could respond, Andrea chimed in, her hand on Miranda's arm, "Yeah, I told her that we don't make that big of a deal out of Thanksgiving and we eat at a normal time like normal people."

"Well, you make it sound like we don't care," Kate said, chuckling awkwardly, but obviously uncomfortable with the apparently bad impression they'd given. She was moving the suitcases away from the door, definitely not showing the respect with which _Louis Vuitton_ should be handled. Miranda took over the task and Kate straightened up and continued, "It's just that we're a small family. Andy is an only child and my brother lives in Portugal so it's usually just the three of us or--"

She looked at Miranda and faltered. Andrea had spent the last Thanksgiving with her and the girls--their first holiday together--and before that she had spent it with her no-good ex-boyfriend. Well, technically. Miranda may or may not have called her once or twice or five times during Thanksgiving day to take care of _her_ dinner.

"--or just me and Richard," Kate said, her voice softer. Then she cleared her throat and continued, "So we don't cook a lot and we don't see the need to eat so early."

Now both parents looked intently at her, as if they were anticipating her displeasure with a Thanksgiving dinner ruined. Well. "That's fine." She nodded serenely. "We're not a very traditional family, either."

She put her arm around Andrea's back at the word "family" and saw Kate's shoulders tense up and Richard's jaw clench.

"Yeah," Cassidy interjected and Miranda actually startled a little, then felt ashamed for almost forgetting her children's presence in the charged atmosphere. Her arm fell away from Andrea. "One time we had take-outs for Thanksgiving dinner."

"We did not," she rebuked her daughter sharply, sending her a reproachful glare. Except, yes, yes they had. But Cassidy had made it sound like they'd had Chinese from carton boxes when, in fact, Andrew Carmellini himself had cooked their gourmet meal and had it delivered to the townhouse.

"There's still gonna be a turkey, though, right?" Caroline blurted, then pressed her lips together, her cheeks reddening. She looked as though the words had slipped out of her mouth of their own volition and she was waiting for someone to reprimand her for speaking.

But Kate actually smiled--the same smile she had given the twins earlier. "Yes, there'll be a turkey. And Richard makes the best stuffing, so there's a lot to look forward to."

She winked at Caroline, who quietly said, "Awesome." She looked pleased, though her cheeks were still pink.

"Why don't we let you guys unpack and get settled?" Richard said, eyening their expensive luggage.

"Oh, that would be great," Andrea responded and, right on cue, cracked her neck. "I'm not used to driving."

Miranda sighed internally; yet another reason for her parents to think Miranda and her spoiled lifestyle were influencing their daughter (after all, Andrea hadn't wanted them seeing her being driven to their house, much to Miranda's insistence). Except Andrea lived in New York City, for goodness' sake, and when she wasn't being driven around, she was taking the subway, as much as Miranda opposed that idea.

But fortunately, the Sachses didn't say anything. Instead, Kate said, "We made the bed in the guest room, and you two"--she turned to the twins--"get to sleep in Andy's old room, if you don't mind sharing?"

And fortunately, the twins silently bobbed their heads in unison, even though, as close as they were, they were way past the age of sleeping in the same room and needed their own spaces. Miranda supposed even they could feel the tension in the air.

***

"This is going okay so far, isn't it?" Andrea asked. Their shared suitcase was open on the bed and she was carefully unpacking designer clothes while Miranda plugged her charger into a socket next to the queen-size bed and left her phone on the nightstand.

This room's wallpaper was blue and brown stripes, casting on the room a slight darkness--which was quite befitting of her current mood--that was broken by the open windows overlooking the suburban neighborhood outside.

It was a pretty small room with the bed in the center of it, a tiny closet, and a loveseat. There were also shelves full of trinkets and too many canvases and framed posters of inspirational quotes on the walls. Thankfully, the room had an en suite so Miranda wouldn't have to face a Sachs parent on the way to or from the bathroom, since they were all sharing the same hallway.

"Sure," she replied, sitting down on the edge of the bed and taking off her shoes, "if you don't consider the looks of displeasure your parents have been giving me since we walked through the door."

"What?" Andrea turned to her with a not-at-all convincing frown of disbelief. Miranda raised an eyebrow. "No, they haven't."

She raised it higher. Andrea huffed and gave up the act. "I'll talk to them."

"Don't bother," Miranda said nonchalantly, turning back to her charging phone. "Let them hate me--it's old news by now. This is your weekend, you should enjoy being back home with your family. I can deal with them never taking a liking to me."

"No, Miranda, this is _our_ weekend," Andrea argued and left the suitcase, rounding the bed and taking a seat next to her. "It's your weekend, too." Miranda raised her eyebrow again, but didn't look away from the newsfeed on her phone until Andrea grabbed it and put it back on the nightstand.

She turned her head back to her and Andrea took her hand in both of hers and caressed it. "And I want them to like you," she said softly, giving Miranda a tender smile that always aided in turning her insides to jelly. "You're part of my life now. I want my parents to accept that."

"They will," Miranda said confidently, even though she wasn't confident at all. "In time, they'll learn to accept me." Just above a whisper and with a slight shake of her head, she added, "Because I'm not going anywhere."

The white, brilliant smile Andrea flashed her in return made it all worth it: flying to godforsaken Cincinnati, enduring a whole weekend in this tastelessly decorated house with these people who hated her, even clogging her arteries with that poorly made burger.

Andrea was worth it. Andrea was worth everything.

Patting Andrea's hand, she released herself from her hold and stood up. "Why don't you go make sure the girls are settling in okay? I'm going to take a shower."

"Okay," Andrea said sweetly and stood up as well. Miranda watched her leave the room, and when she was out of sight, she sighed and slumped her shoulders. This was going to be a long evening. A long weekend.


	3. Who's Pretending?

Andy hated herself for even thinking it, but the shower in her parents' house--her old house--had been a bit of a disapointment. The water had been hot and she'd technically had everything she'd needed, but after showering at Miranda's house--their house, now--for so long, she guessed almost any other shower would feel lacking.

But it wasn't her parents' fault that Miranda had a huge, spacious shower stall with a rain shower head as well as a handheld one. It wasn't her parents' fault that she also had a jacuzzi bathtub with six massage jets, which could probably fit six grown people inside it. And it wasn't her parents' fault that the floor in her and Miranda's bathroom was heated and that they had dozens of the best hair and skin products in the world.

Maybe she had gotten a little spoiled, but only because this kind of lifestyle was incredibly easy to get used to. She still appreciated everything she had, though, and still felt lucky and grateful for the way her parents had brought her up.

She wished, however, that her shower experience could have been more enjoyable. She'd make it up to herself when they got back to New York, with a long and satisfying soak in the bathtub. Maybe she'd convince Miranda to join her. Maybe if she finally got her parents to like Miranda, they'd agree to let her pay for a new shower installment in their house, for their own enjoyment.

Yeah, maybe. And maybe pigs would fly and Miranda would start wearing _Crocs_.

Wiping the steams away from the mirror, she looked at herself and sighed. What had she been thinking, agreeing to this weekend? Or, rather, convincing her parents and Miranda of this arrangement?

Maybe she should have listened to Miranda when she'd told her it would be a terrible idea that was bound to blow up. Then they could have spent a nice evening at the townhouse, not with her dad's genius stuffing, but with food no less spectacular.

Right now, the tension could be cut with a knife. The introductions downstairs had been awkward at best, and ever since then, neither her mom nor dad had ventured upstairs to communicate with any of their guests. Miranda had been in a foul mood since yesterday and Andy could see herself spending the weekend as a mediator and buffer between her and her parents. Even the twins seemed uncomfortable, and they usually didn't give a rat's ass about anybody but themselves.

But no matter. Andy wasn't going to wallow in self-pity. They were here, this was happening, and she'd make sure that by the time they left, her parents would be looking forward to inviting them to spend every holiday together. Perhaps Miranda would even return the favor, if only to be polite.

After wrapping herself in a towel and blow-drying her hair, she stepped out of the bathroom to find Miranda standing before the closet door mirror, fastening the clasp of her necklace.

She was wearing a black, off the shoulder, knee-length _Stella McCartney_ dress that looked incredibly soft to the touch and matching _Manolo Blahnik_ s with a bejeweled square on the pointy tip, and even though Andy could mostly only see her from the back, she looked exquisute.

"I love your dress. Is it _Zara_?"

Miranda spun around with such a look of incredulity in her eyes it was comical. Coming closer, Andy noted that there was also a velvety strip along the full length of the dress, covered delicately by a thin layer of lace patterns. She ran her hands over Miranda's sides and, dear god, the fabric was even softer than it looked.

"If you're trying to make my mom feel bad about herself, this"--she squeezed Miranda's shapely hips--"is working."

"I'm not trying to make your mom feel bad about herself. Why would I do that?" Miranda dismissed in her usually soft and nonchalant tone. Then bored her eyes into Andy's. "And good."

Andy snorted before going in for a light kiss on the lips, mindful of Miranda's lipstick.

"Unless you're planning to sit down at the table in this towel, I suggest you get dressed." Miranda moved away, but not before giving Andy's butt a couple of gentle pats. "I suspect we'll be eating soon."

Indeed, the house smelled deliciously of turkey and her parents' cooking, the scent wafting all the way up to their room. As if on cue, her stomach grumbled.

"All right," she said, moving toward the closet as Miranda headed to the bed. She'd already taken out her laptop, undoubtedly preparing to work even on Thanksgiving, while everybody else was taking a break. Andy sighed, a little for herself, but mostly for all the poor _Runway_ employees that probably wouldn't be getting a moment to rest and enjoy their time with their families just because Miranda was having a lousy weekend.

After getting dressed and made up, she left Miranda alone to work and sulk while checking that the twins had both showered and were getting ready. They were, while making fun of Andy's old room.

Then she went downstairs, finding her parents in the kitchen. Her dad was just checking on the turkey (probably for the third time in five minutes since Andy knew how obsessive he could get when it came to his turkey) while her mom was mixing her green bean salad.

"Can I help?" she asked from the doorway and they both looked up. Simultaneously, their eyes grew bigger and they stared.

"Honey, you look..." her mom began, but was unable to finish, taking in Andy's form.

Her dad finished for her, though not quite as enchanted, "That's a nice dress."

"Thanks." She ran her hands self-consciously down the length of it. It was a _Marc Jacobs_ Miranda had gifted her for her last birthday (along with many other presents Andy had been humbled to accept); red, form-fitting, Bardot dress coming down to just beneath her knees with a tasteful cleavage.

She was about to add the birthday gift detail, but then decided against it since Miranda's wealth was one of her parents' issues. Did they think Miranda was buying her love?

Either way, she needn't have said anything. Her parents knew close to nothing about fashion, but even they understood enough to know that she couldn't afford a dress like that on a cub reporter's salary.

Instead, she repeated awkwardly, "So, do you need help with anything?"

Probably sensing her discomfort, her mom let the issue go and nodded toward a bunch of gourds and tiny pumpkins in a bowl on the countertop. "Why don't you finish setting the table?" Her tone was casual, but Andy smiled because she knew her mom must have saved those for her, who'd always loved decorating the Thanksgiving table as a child.

She took the bowl of items happily and exited the kitchen, trying to ignore her dad's lingering stare and the tight line his lips had formed. When she was at the table, though, she heard hushed murmuring. She couldn't make out much except her dad's low, angry voice and her mom's "shhh!"

She sighed.

The table was mostly set already, sans the actual food, and Andy noted that her mom had taken out her precious, cherished China. At least she didn't hate Miranda enough to make her eat out of styrofoam plates.

She came out of the kitchen with the salad just as Andy was putting the final touches to her decoration. She took the bowl from her mom and placed it slightly to the left of the center, then turned to her.

Immediately she was taken in a hug and giggled. "Mom." But she held her mom all the same, basking in the feeling of comfort it had always given her.

"I just missed you so much," her mom whispered.

Andy rubbed her back, noticing she was even taller than usual next to her now that she was wearing heels. "I missed you, too, Mom."

When they broke apart, her mom cupped her cheek and her hand was warm as she caressed it. Andy leaned into the touch. Until her mom opened her mouth and said, "I think you should stay here."

Frowning, Andy pulled back. "What?"

"Here, in Cincinnati," she clarified. "You should come back home."

Oh, god. "Mom, what are you talking about?"

"We miss you so much," she continued without missing a beat. "You can live here, with me and Dad--"

"Where Miranda isn't," Andy finished for her, crossing her arms. So this was their new tactic? Locking her up in her old room to keep her away from the big, scary dragon?

"I didn't say that--" her mom began defensively, but Andy didn't let her finish, her voice rising almost against her will.

"Oh, okay, so you mean I should move here with Miranda and the girls--"

"Andy--"

"--and what about my job--"

"We would find you somewhere here. There's _The Cincinnati Enquirer_ \--" Andy opened her mouth to react, but she continued, "or-or you could intern at Dad's firm, I'm sure--"

"Oh, my god, Mom--"

"Andy--"

"No, Mom, stop," Andy said sternly. "Just stop. Are you-- have you lost your mind? My life is in New York,"--she spread her arms by her sides--"and I have a job and a partner that I love--"

"Oh, yes, a twice-divorced mother of two," her mom scoffed. "That's quite a catch."

"Yeah, it is," Andy retorted. "That's who I love--all three of them. And if you can't accept that, then I don't know what we're even doing here."

"Was I a bad mother?" her mom suddenly asked, her tone morose.

Andy frowned again. "What?"

"Are you looking for a substitute, is that it--"

" _What?!_ " Her eyes bugged out of their sockets. Mommy issues? Her mom thought she had mommy issues? She thought--

"I'm just trying to understand--"

"You think I'm broken?" she challenged.

"Of course not!"

"Good. Then I'm gonna forget you just said that." With that, she dodged her mom's hand coming up to touch her again and headed toward the stairs, praying that she wouldn't trip on her heels now and embarrass herself.

"Where are you going?" her mom called.

"Upstairs, to call everyone for dinner," she answered over her shoulder, then looked back at her mom when her foot reached the first step. "We _are_ gonna eat, right?"

She had a second to see her mom deflate behind her before she ascended the stairs.

***

Andy was pretty sure Miranda had heard the exchange with her mom. The twins probably, too, since they had a knack for eavesdropping, especially when they suspected there was drama taking place.

But nobody had said anything. Miranda had given her a _look_ ; the "Miranda look" that was equal parts concerned and not wanting to know, which was just as well because Andy hadn't felt like talking about it and convincing Miranda further that they shouldn't have come. She was beginning to believe that herself.

Now they were all sitting at the dinner table, Miranda to her right, the girls across from them, and her parents on either end of the table.

There were flowers and candles and delicious food, but it didn't feel like a regular Sachs Thanksgiving. The mood was too grim and everyone was eating in uncomfortable silence.

The twins actually looked most uncomfortable, not used to family feuds since Stephen had left and probably wondering why they'd been sucked into this mess. Andy felt sorry for them, and gave Caroline what she hoped was a consoling and not bitter smile when she looked up at her.

"Andy, could you pass me the peas?" her dad asked distantly, obviously privy to her and her mom's argument and definitely on her mom's side.

She wordlessly picked up the bowl (even though it was closer to Cassidy) and stretched her arm over Miranda's plate to set it next to him.

Miranda cleared her throat and turned to look at Andy's mom with what looked like great difficulty. "The sweet potato casserole is wonderful, Mrs. Sachs." She looked between the couple. "Everything is."

Andy saw the lines around her mom's lips and between her eyebrows, but thankfully she just nodded once and tersely muttered, "Thank you."

Andy could see that Miranda was debating whether she should say more, but a woman of few words and fewer compliments, she ended up simply nodding and returning to her food.

The twins across from them looked to be sharing their own telepathic conversation and Andy gently asked, "Are you girls enjoying your food?"

They nodded hurriedly--Cassidy also added a "Mhm"--before looking down at their plates. Andy really did regret dragging them into this.

"Don't forget to leave some room for my pumpkin pie," her mom said, her voice once again friendlier with the girls. At least she wasn't petty enough to dump her shit on them.

And then, once again, everyone fell into silence, the only sound in the room being the cutlery clinking against her mom's China. Andy kind of wished there was a drunk uncle to spout racist remarks, just to take everyone's minds off the topic hovering over the table and redirect them toward soneone else to hate. And also to break the silence.

Unfortunately, the silence was broken minutes later by her dad dropping his knife and fork on his plate, stating, "What are we doing?"

All heads turned to him, wide-eyed and cautious. Andy managed a weak "Dad" before he continued, his gaze fixed on her mom, of all people, as if he was directing his anger at her. Andy knew he probably just couldn't bring himself to look at anybody else.

"Why are we pretending everything is okay when it isn't?" he asked. Andy's mom, too, put down her fork and wiped her lips with the corner of her napkin.

Quietly, Andy heard Caroline murmur, "Who's pretending?"

"Dad," Andy tried again, raising her voice. Miranda took an elegant sip of her wine, as if she wasn't bothered at all. Andy knew better.

Finally, her dad looked at her, his eyes narrowed. "You brought this woman to our house"--he pointed at Miranda, who still refused to look at him--"even though you know how we feel about her. About this."

Andy turned more fully toward him. "You told me to bring her! I asked and you told me to bring her."

"Only because we wouldn't have been able to see you otherwise," her mom interjected from her other side, redirecting her attention.

Before she could retort, though, she finally heard Miranda's soft voice. "Girls." They all looked at her, but she didn't say anything else, instead looked at her daughters and signaled with no more than a raised eyebrow and a slight tilt of her head for them to go upstairs.

They didn't need any more prompting. Abandoning their meals, they pushed their chairs back and hurried away, leaving the sound of footsteps in their wake.

Now the four grown-ups were alone, although Andy had no doubt that the girls were still at the top of the stairs, trying to listen in. She wished they could be at the townhouse, where rooms were bigger and farther away from each other.

Miranda pulled her back to the scene unfolding by clearing her throat and primly wiping her already clean lips with her napkin.

"What the hell are you doing?" Andy asked her parents, who didn't even seem to be perturbed by their shameful behavior. They looked angry.

"I assume your parents have a problem with me," Miranda calmly stated the obvious. "So why don't we let them say what they have to say to me?"

Now they looked angrier.

"You have some nerve, you know that--" her mom began, but Andy cut her off hotly.

" _She_ has some nerve? You're the ones who just ruined dinner because--"

"Andrea." She turned back to Miranda, who wasn't even looking at her. Or her parents, for that matter.

"Don't shut my daughter up--"

"Don't tell her what to do," Andy spat at her father.

"Andre--"

"No," she argued. "I've been trying for almost a year to get them to see beyond their prejudice, and now we've come all the way out here for them to insult you? I won't have it."

She made to get up, only to be stopped by a collective "Sit down." Then Miranda did look at her bewildered face, skewering her with a look that made her feel like a chastised child. She sat back down.

"Now," Miranda began, sounding like she was commencing a _Runway_ editorial meeting. "We're all adults. I expect we can have a calm, reasonable discussion."

Andy's mom looked about ready to rip her napkin to shreds, gripping it so hard her knuckles were white, as well as her pinched lips. But she didn't say a word. Her dad, on the other hand:

"I want to know what someone like you is doing with our Andy. You, who could have anyone you wanted." His voice was shaking with rage barely held at bay and Andy glared.

"Gee, Dad, thanks for the vote of confidence."

Miranda ignored her, proceeding serenely (or faking serenity because, behind that façade, Andy knew she wanted to throttle him), "I don't know, Mr. Sachs, why did you choose Kate?"

"Oh, for god's sake." Andy's mom actually banged her hands on the table, startling Andy. But her dad went on.

"Do you think we didn't hear about all the things you put Andy through when she worked for you? Treating her like a slave."

"I was getting paid to assist her, Dad--"

"That was no assistsnce, Andy." He pointed his finger at her. "I was with you that night she called you from Christ-knows-where, demanding you fly her to New York like some diva." He turned to Miranda, who was doing a really good job remaining composed. "You made her cry, did you know that?"

"Dad!"

"I will not apologize for anything I did while Andrea was under my employ," Miranda replied softly, then gave him one of her most terrifying glares. It no longer worked on Andy (well, most of the time it didn't), but it worked on her dad. She was actually baring teeth. "Definitely not to you. Our relationship was strictly professional back then."

"And how am I supposed to know that you're not still treating her like a lackey?" he retorted.

"You're supposed to believe _me_ ," said Andy, nearly trembling with rage. "I don't work for Miranda and I wouldn't let her boss me around."

"She's twice your age, Andy," her mom shot, her face actually contorting in disgust.

"So?" Andy frowned. _Just try to bring up your daughter's brilliantly diagnosed mommy issues in front of Miranda,_ she tried to silently communicate to her. "Who are we hurting?"

" _You!_ " her dad nearly shouted in his frustration. "She's hurting you and you can't even see that!"

"I have yet to receive any complaints," said Miranda, the only one still quiet. The twins could definitely hear every word. She leaned back in her chair.

"Exactly, and she won't."

"You're so young," her mom moaned, sounding almost agonized and exactly like a broken record.

"Stop saying that!" Andy actually yelled. "That's all you've been saying ever since I told you about us. I'm an adult. I know what I'm doing. How old were you, exactly, when you married Dad and popped out a baby?"

"That's different--" she began defensively.

"How?" Andy spat.

"For starters, our age differences aren't big," her dad answered instead.

"For starters. Okay. What else? You're a man and Miranda isn't?"

"Oh, don't say that to us." Her mom bared her own teeth in a snarle. "We wouldn't care if you were dating a girl your own age."

"No, Andrea, they just don't want you dating someone like me," Miranda spoke up again. Her tone was deceptively light. "Not the big tyrant who terrorizes so many innocent souls for fun. I'm corrupting you, isn't that right?"

She gave Andy's mom a pretty scary smile--worse than the smile she gave attendees at her events. Her mom glared right back.

God, what if Miranda actually left her because of this? The weight of her parents' disapproval had been hanging over them for close to a year now, sure, but this was the first time Miranda had actually met them. The first time she'd had to face off against them. What if they pushed her over the edge, convinced her that Andy wasn't worth the trouble, that she really could find someone else--anyone? Andy felt like crying.

But then Miranda took her hand in hers under the table and a dam broke. Tears filled her eyes and she couldn't stop her lower lip from trembling.

Her mom noticed immediately and tried to reach for her. "Andy, sweetie, don't cry," she said gently. To her credit, her face did show some remorse, but Andy pulled away and wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

"How am I supposed not to when you're being so... so..." She sniffed again.

"We're just trying to look out for you and your best interests." Her dad lowered his voice as well. "She's not good for you."

" _She_ is sitting right here," Miranda interjected coldly.

"Not if it had anything to do with us," her mom muttered under her breath, but loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Okay, that's enough." This time, Andy was the one to slap the table. "You have _got_ to stop. This is who I chose. This is who I've been with for over a year. I love her and she loves me and we're happy."

Because that was all that mattered at the end of the day, wasn't it? Miranda loved her. Miranda, who loved no one besides her daughters. Of all people, she loved Andy, and cherished her and made her feel special and wanted every single day. And Andy had never experienced a more marvelous feeling than that.

"Why can't you be happy for me?"

"Because we can see something that you don't," her dad answered in his patronizing voice, which Andy hated, hated, hated!

"Which is?" she demanded, feeling her face growing hot.

Her mom answered for him, "Which is she's using you." Andy scoffed, barking out a mirthless laugh that sounded scary to her own ears. Her mom insisted, "She is. She's a middle-aged woman--for god's sake, older than me, Andy; she has two kids, she's divorced two men--"

"Who weren't me."

"Yes, I'm sure they never heard about how grandly she loved them," she said, heavy sarcasm rolling off her tongue.

"Not quite," Miranda said quietly. It was true. Her previous marriages, while not entirely impersonal, had basically been business arrangements; mutual agreements that would benefit both parties' careers and images, and above all else, the twins. Miranda's first husband had given her the two, greatest gifts of her life; the second had been a good father figure.

But Miranda hadn't really loved them, not the way a wife should love her husband. It might have had something to do with her being deep inside her expensive, haute couture closet, but either way, when each marriage had ended, as sad as it had been, Miranda had been relieved. She'd confessed so to Andy one late night a few months ago, in her home study over a glass of wine.

Andy, she knew, was the first thing Miranda had done for herself. Not for her career, not for her image, not even for her daughters. She'd known all those things could suffer due to this relationship, yet she'd still gone ahead with it because, for once in her life, she hadn't wanted to refuse herself something she truly wanted.

She truly wanted Andy.

That's why Andy knew she wouldn't just dump her on her ass because she'd had her fun, because the itch had been scratched. At this point, Andy was beginning to feel certain that Miranda wouldn't let go of her so easily, not if Andy didn't give her a really good reason to. She hoped this weekend wasn't a really good reason.

"She's not using me, Mom," Andy said softly, hearing the slight quiver in her voice. "Why is it so hard for you to believe that this is a genuine relationship? Just because we have a few differences?"

"Look what she's turned you into, Andy." Her dad nodded toward her dress, his voice dripping with disdain. Andy's fist clenched. He was beginning to sound a lot like Nate and Lily had. "You look like..."

"Like what?" she questioned challengingly when he stopped himself.

"Like a trophy wife," he spat out, not even looking regretful.

Andy laughed, again. The sound lacking humor, again. "Oh, why, because I'm wearing a nice dress? Because she gave me a birthday present? How many times have you bought Mom clothes or jewelry?"

"If only I'd gotten couture," her mom murmured.

"We don't even recognize you anymore," her dad said. Andy, again, heard Lily in his voice. Her best friend of 16 years, who'd accused her of growing and changing like it was a bad thing.

"Well, I'm sorry for that," she said, not sorry at all. "I'm sorry I've started dressing better-- _and liking it_ \--because, obviously, that makes me a bad person, right? A phony? In case you forgot, I worked at a fashion magazine. I took an interest in my job."

"Oh, we didn't forget," her mom said quietly.

"Did you touch her while she worked for you?" Her dad glared at Miranda.

"WHAT?!" Andy shrieked. Of course they'd asked that question before, asked if their relationship had started while Miranda had still been Andy's superior, but they'd never been this blunt and crude.

"I assure you, I took no interest in Andrea while we worked together," Miranda replied calmly, but a pink tint was slowly rising up her neck and ears. It was also not entirely true since Miranda _had_ developed feelings--or _something_ , as she had called it--while Andy had still worked at _Runway_. Andy had, too. But they hadn't acted on them until months after her resignation.

Still, Andy said, mostly to spite them, "And even if she did, it would be none of your business."

"Of course it would," her mom snapped, raising her voice again. "How can you say that? We're your parents. We don't want you to be taken advantage of."

"Then as my parents, you should trust me when I say I'm not," she shot back, then sighed and threw her arms in the air. "Dammit--"

"Andy--" her dad groused, uncomfortable with her swearing, but she ignored him.

"--I'm not a child anymore. I knew exactly what I was getting into and we've been together long enough for me to know I'm not being used. Why do we have to convince the whole world that what we're doing isn't perverted?"

"BECAUSE IT IS!" her mom practically screamed the second she'd finished talking. Then everyone turned to her, wide-eyed and speechless (even her dad looked shocked), and she pressed her lips together, looking almost remorseful. But it was already out there, and she seemed to realize that and deflated with a sigh, resigned.

Andy tried to think of something to say, but no words or voice would come out. This was not something she'd ever thought she would have to face.

So her mom thought she was a pervert. And that Miranda was a pervert. And the happy, beautiful life they were building together; all the small moments--the whispered endearments and the sweet kisses and Miranda tucking her in when she'd fallen asleep writing, or giving Miranda bear hugs and listening to her complain while Andy knew that she secretly liked it, liked being enveloped in her lover's arms--all that meant nothing. It was merely a disgusting deviation to her parents.

The wetness returned to Andy's eyes with a vengeance and she struggled to not blink, to not let it out so her mom couldn't see what she'd done to her.

Her mom, her rock, who had always been on her side, always told her that she could do whatever she set her mind to, even when Andy had decided to move to New York and even when her dad had complained about her not going to law school. Her mom had never stopped loving and supporting her, but today might just be the day.

Andy could see her future, away from the people who'd raised and taught her. Not spending any more holidays together, no more e-mails and phone calls, no visits, all because her parents were now--and apparently had been for a while--disgusted with her and her choices.

Silence had reigned again, the only sound now in the room being heavy breathing. Then: a chair being pulled back from the table and Miranda gracefully getting up and leaving.


	4. Midwestern Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new fic _and_ a new chapter--how 'bout that? Have a great weekend, y'all!

Miranda stopped outside her daughters' room--Andrea's old room. She actually had yet to see it. She'd let Andrea deal with the girls while she herself had hid away in the guest room, working away on her laptop and phone and pretending she was back in New York.

Well, no time like the present. She definitely wasn't going back downstairs--wouldn't even if she got paid to--and she had a feeling Andrea would be quick to join her upstairs. She wondered if she could convince her now to go back home, cut this weekend short.

Her daughters must have heard everything--or mostly everything--that had gone down after she'd sent them away. Even if they hadn't actually stood on the landing and listened, as was one of their favorite hobbies back home, the three Sachses had probably been loud enough to be heard inside their room.

They'd been aware, since being told of her and Andrea's relationship, of all the problems and hardships it brought with it, and they knew of the Sachs parents' reluctance to approve of Miranda.

So far they hadn't shared much of their opinions on the matter with her or Andrea--besides some casual "We don't care"s and "Andy's welcome to stay here," which had warmed both her and Andrea's hearts--but she was sure that between them they had a lot to say. They always did, trusting each other over everyone else, including her, ever since they were little kids.

They had developed their own twin language early on, which didn't so much consist of made-up words as it did of shared looks and some sort of telepathy. It was almost scary sometimes how easily and frequently they could finish each other's sentences or know exactly what the other twin was thinking or about to do.

Andrea had once remarked that they sometimes reminded her of the twins from _The Shining_ , and after showing them the movie--Miranda had wanted to kill her, especially when Cassidy had crawled into their bed in the middle of the night--they'd been delighted with the new title.

Caroline had also exclaimed excitedly, "They have red hair like us!"

To which Cassidy had added, "But we're prettier."

Breathing deeply, Miranda composed herself, not wanting her children to see how rattled she felt. She knocked on the door, then opened it and took in the room. It definitely looked like a teenager had once lived there, but no more. The walls were still covered in posters of boy bands and movies and, oh--more wallpaper. She was beginning to wonder if there was a single room in this house not ruined by some ridiculous, '90s-esque wallpaper. This one was white with tiny, red roses on it.

The desk, though mostly empty, held some framed pictures of a younger Andrea with her parents or friends, as well as a variety of stuffed animals, which Miranda guessed usually stayed on the bed that was now occupied by her daughters.

It was adjacent to the wall across from her, obviously too small to hold two bodies, which was why there was also a mattress on the floor next to it, already set with sheets.

At the moment, the mattress was empty and her girls were giggling on the bed, hunched over something she couldn't make out from the doorway.

Walking further into the room, she made her presence known and two heads simultaneously shot up, quite creepily indeed.

"What are you doing?" she asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed, and now she could see that they were flipping through a photo album they'd undoubtedly discovered while snooping.

"Looking at Andy's old pictures," Caroline answered unnecessarily but with immense glee. Apparently this was quite a piece of entertainment and Miranda leaned closer to get a better look. Cassidy thrust a picture under her nose.

"Look at this one. How old do you think she was here?"

Miranda took the proferred item and gaped. "Oh, my." It had obviously been taken on Halloween--or at least she hoped so--when Andrea had dressed as a hippie, complete with ripped jeans and a blonde, curly wig. She couldn't have been older than the twins, possibly younger, judging by the baby fat on her face. She looked absolutely ridiculous. And adorable, Miranda conceded to herself.

The next picture she grabbed looked more recent and seemed to have been taken on some family trip perhaps. Andrea was leaning against a stone wall in a white, button-down shirt and blue shorts, her long legs on display. Miranda knew she shouldn't stare since Andrea had probably still been a teenager at the time, but boy, was she glad she had those legs nowadays to wrap around her.

Caroline let out a thunderous laugh and Miranda shook herself of the thought because she was sitting with her children after all. She and Cassidy leaned over to see what was so funny and she was able to control herself while her daughter joined her sister in giggling over the image of a baby standing with her back to the camera, flashing her tiny butt proudly. She took the picture in her own hand, smirking.

This was an adequate distraction. Which reminded her--

"Are you still hungry?" she changed the subject. Though not so desperate to get back to the Midwestern nightmare they were stuck in, she hoped to gauge her daughters' reaction.

"I could probably get Andrea to bring your plates up." Because she sure as hell wasn't going back there herself. She wondered if Andrea was still sitting at the table, talking to her parents. She couldn't hear anything.

"I'm good," Cassidy answered simply, not giving her anything else.

Caroline, however, said, "So do Andy's parents hate us or what?" Always the blunt one of the two, she uttered the words with casual ease. Miranda grimaced internally.

What was she supposed to say? "Yes, they absolutely do?" Well, she didn't think they actually hated her girls since even they seemed to be able to distinguish that they were just kids and had no say in the matter. Maybe they pitied them. Miranda filled up with anger all over again at the thought.

One thing was certain, though: they hated her guts. She was the big, bad wolf who had tempted their naïve daughter. If only they knew that she was far from naïve when it came to Miranda.

But they still thought of her as their helpless, little baby who needed their protection and guidance. Never mind that she'd left their home years before, that she'd been living in New York for more than two of those, that she was slowly climbing the corporate ladder all on her own and making a name for herself. Without them.

She could understand their concern, she really could. She had two daughters that just the thought of letting go of was physically painful. She would hate to see them getting into trouble that she wouldn't be able to stop.

But Miranda also knew that she wasn't trouble for Andrea, not if she could help it. She intended to be the happiest aspect in Andrea's life, as happy as Andrea made her every single day. She wanted to be there for every career achievement and personal accomplishment and she wanted to watch Andrea grow and thrive. She didn't ever want to be with anybody else.

It had taken her long enough to find Andrea. She wasn't about to let her be taken away from her.

Realizing that her daughters were waiting for an answer, she said, "No, darling, they don't hate us." Big, fat lie. "They're just a little concerned about Andrea." True enough.

"Why?" Cassidy frowned. "We're not doing anything to her."

She smiled tenderly at her and stroked her hair. She wished they could keep that innocence forever. "Of course we're not, baby. But they don't live with us, they don't know our life."

"So just tell them," Caroline stated, as if it was that easy.

"Well, that's what we're here for."

"Then why did you fight?" she pushed and Miranda began regretting opening the subject because how was she supposed to explain to them that Andrea's parents might always find their mom not good enough for their daughter?

"We just don't see eye to eye about everything, that's all." She leaned over and kissed Caroline's forehead, then Cassidy's, hoping to pacify them with that answer. "But I promise everything will work out." Now if only she could believe that herself.

"We should just go back home," Cassidy said in a snooty tone, reminding her very much of herself. "They won't be there to bother us."

"Yes, I would like that very much as well," she admitted softly.

Just then, she heard, "Hey, what are you guys doing?" and turned to see Andrea standing in the doorway, coming to save her from the awkwardness. She was still wearing her dress (and looked absolutely breathtaking in it, regardless of what her ignorant parents thought), but she'd ditched the shoes and her face was free of make-up, and when she came to join the group on the bed, Miranda saw that her eyes were red-rimmed. She'd been crying.

Her heart ached at the sight. Those people had made her--their daughter; her Andrea--cry. If her connections had extended as far as this middle-of-nowhere, she would have blacklisted and driven them out of town.

Which didn't sound very effective on middle-aged people two minutes away from retirement, but this was Miranda's most lethal weapon.

She felt helpless and she hated that feeling.

Tentatively, she placed a hand on Andrea's knee--hoping to offer some sort of comfort while they were in the children's company--which Andrea covered with her own, giving her a small smile.

"We're looking at old pictures of you," Cassidy stated with a mischiveous grin, pulling them out of that moment.

"Oh, really?" Andrea asked playfully. "And just who gave you permission to do that?"

"We went through your stuff," Caroline said unapologetically, knowing Andrea wouldn't be mad at her.

They had taken to her quite easily, probably finding it easier to connect with another girl than a strange man. Miranda suspected it might have also had something to do with the fact that, for the first time, she was actually happy in a relationship. Kids could sense that.

And Andrea didn't act like a step-parent. She was funny and nice and fun, and a lot closer to their age than Stephen had been. Or their parents, for that matter. Which meant she knew how to play their video games and when she didn't, she was always open to learn. They watched the same TV shows and enjoyed pizza nights and the twins could talk to her about things they couldn't with their old and clueless mother.

One of Miranda's biggest concerns when she'd gotten involved with Andrea (even more than the fact that, at the time, she was still technically married--though separated--which Stephen could have used against her) had been her girls and how the relationship would affect them.

She was so grateful to know she'd worried in vain.

"Ooh, look at this one." Andrea's voice snapped her out of her musings, making her realize she'd completely zoned out. Andrea was now engaging with the girls fully, holding up a picture that was, no doubt, from her teenage years. "Look at all those pimples."

"Andy, I didn't know you were a nerd." Cassidy observed a candid shot of her studying, surrounded by books and notes. Her words said one thing, but her tone did more than imply that she absolutely did think of Andrea as a nerd. Miranda couldn't suppress her chuckle.

"I was studying for finals." Andrea snatched the picture from her hand. "I wanna see you being so cool and un-nerdy a few years from now."

Miranda rolled her eyes. "Un-nerdy." And this girl called herself a writer. But at the same time, something very warm exploded in her heart because Andrea was talking about the future--a future with her and the girls.

"I'm more interested in hearing the story behind this one." She tried to sound serious, but couldn't keep the amusement out of her voice as she picked up the baby picture again. Maybe she could sneak it in her bag and take it home with her.

Andrea blushed, then chuckled, taking it from her hand. "Oh, that. I forgot this picture existed." She put it face down in her lap, but Miranda took it back.

"I have to say, I'm quite fond of it," she said lightly, studying Andrea's cute, tiny form.

Andrea blushed some more.

***

They lay side by side, facing each other. Miranda watched Andrea, not wanting to say anything, wanting to hear what she was thinking.

Had she continued to talk with her parents after Miranda had left? Miranda didn't want to think that the possibility of them talking Andrea into leaving her existed--she didn't really believe it--but a small, nagging part inside her brain insisted that perhaps they knew what they were talking about.

She hadn't been good enough for either of her husbands, and they'd both ended up walking. Andrea really was so young, just beginning her adult life. What if Miranda was holding her back? Who committed to a relationship with a middle-aged, single mother who was married to her job?

Andrea had so many options. The world was wide open for her to explore and build herself professionally, yet here she was, fighting with her parents to convince them that Miranda was good enough for her. Was she?

"You _are_ good enough for me," Andrea whispered, easily reading her thoughts. But then, she always had. That was the reason, Miranda had told herself for months, it had been so hard to part with her after Paris a year and a half ago. Of course she'd been fooling herself.

"My parents don't know anything," Andrea continued, playing with the top button of Miranda's silken pajama shirt. "They don't know you and they don't know us."

Miranda gulped. She really, really wanted to believe that. She had believed it, for more than a year, but this visit was shaking her up. Andrea must have been able to see the uncertainty on her face because she added, "Don't leave me, okay?"

Her voice was so small and timid that Miranda returned to herself in an instant. Leave her? Leave _her_? Miranda should be the one worrying about being abandoned, not the other way around.

Cupping Andrea's cheek, she assured her, just as she had earlier that day, "I'm not going anywhere." Not ever.

Andrea smiled slightly and circled her wrist. Miranda closed the distance between their bodies and then their lips met softly and Miranda never had wanted and never did want to kiss anybody else. Only Andrea, for as long as she'd let her.


	5. Straight out of the Pan

When Andy woke up on Friday morning, Miranda was still asleep and she debated staying in bed at least until she woke up as well because she really couldn't face her parents.

Eventually, though, she forced herself out from between the sheets (that really were nothing like her and Miranda's luxurious ones), mostly lured by the smell of eggs, bacon, and her mom's French toast.

She redressed herself in her pajamas, put on warm socks, and went downstairs, bracing for impact.

Her parents were in the kitchen, sitting at the table. Her dad was reading the newspaper while her mom drank coffee, staring blankly into space. When they heard her come in, they looked up at once.

Her mom actually looked worse than she had the night before when Andy had left the table moments after Miranda. Now her eyes were bloodshot and hollow and the bags underneath them, which had developed with her age (Miranda did a great job covering hers), were bigger. She looked like she hadn't slept much and Andy felt only a little bad for her. Mostly she thought, _Serves you right._

Still, she forced a tiny smile that didn't reach her eyes and probably looked more like a grimace, and murmured, "Morning."

"Good morning," her mom said as Andy headed for the coffee pot (Miranda and she had an espresso machine) and her voice was almost pleading, even with just those two words.

"Morning." Her dad's voice was more reserved, but she felt his eyes follow her.

She moved around the kitchen as slowly as she could, trying to stall the inevitable, but when her cup of coffee was ready, she took a seat across from her dad and looked down at her drink.

"Andy." Her mom gingerly reached for her from the head of the table. She wanted to pull away, but didn't and let her hand be taken. When she looked up, she could see that her mom was struggling with getting the words out before settling on, "Would you like some breakfast?"

"No." Andy took her hand back. "I'm good."

"Your mother has something she wants to say to you," came her dad's voice from behind his newspaper and she looked back at her mom, whose fingers were playing restlessly with each other.

Finally, she said, "I'm sorry. For last night. I was out of line and what I said, I... I shouldn't have said that. I didn't mean it, Andy."

Andy didn't know whether to believe her or not. She knew her mother--her loving, gentle mother, who couldn't hurt a soul. But last night had been awful, so very awful, and she'd never seen that hateful side of her. It had scared her.

And it had angered her. The rest of the world--the press, her co-workers, even the strangers who now recognized her on the street--she could deal with them. They knew nothing of what she and Miranda had and she didn't feel obligated in the slightest to explain.

But her parents, the people who should have been happiest for her finding love and joy--for them to regard her relationship with such contempt, for her mother to say the things she'd said...

They had no right. They didn't.

"But you have to understand, Andy, we're worried about you," her mom continued helplessly. "We think you're making a mistake and we can see things that you can't, things that you're too young to see--"

"Mom, stop. Please, just stop, just--" Andy sighed and rubbed her hands against her face. They were warm from holding her mug. "I don't want to talk about it anymore. I don't have any energy left."

She heard her dad's paper rustle and looked up to meet his eyes. He removed his glasses and gave her a poignant look. "Your mom apologized to you, Andy, the least you could do is hear her out."

Seriously? She felt her blood start to boil all over again. "Well, she wouldn't have had to apologize to me if she hadn't been so damn mean last night. How about, for once, instead of looking for where I'm wrong, you take a look at yourselves?" Her voice rose with every word she said.

"Keep your voice down," her dad hissed, putting his paper aside. "You made us look bad enough last night."

"Oh, _I_ made you look bad?" she asked incredulously. She got up from the table, never once having taken a sip of her coffee. "This is unbelievable. Just unbelievable."

"Andy, sit down," her mom asked.

"No way. I just woke up and I told you I didn't want to talk about it right now, so leave me the fuck alone."

With that, she stormed out. She could just picture the expressions on her parents' faces as she slammed the front door.

***

Andy thought of her and Miranda's actual, official first date. After several weeks of hooking up (either at her now empty apartment--since she and Nate had officially broken up after she'd returned from Paris and he'd moved to Boston to chase his own career ambitions like a total hypocrite--or at the townhouse after the twins' bedtime), Andy had told Miranda that she wanted to make her dinner.

Of course going out in public had not been an option and asking Miranda's cook to make a romantic dinner for two for her freshly separated employer had also been out of the question, so it hadn't left much choice anyway, but that wasn't why Andy had wanted to do it.

She'd wanted to create something special for Miranda that would be just between the two of them. To feed her like Nate had done for her when they'd just started dating, which had ultimately endeared him to Andy the most.

Problem was she hadn't had a minuscule of Nate's talent (and also along with him, he'd taken all the good knives, dishes, and spices--which _had_ been rightfully his) and her romantic gesture had kind of backfired.

Conversation had been more flowing than she'd expected, the red wine had been fantastic (because Miranda had brought it), and the soft glow from the candles she'd lit had almost distracted from the shabby state of her apartment, but when time had come to take the lasagna out of the oven (she'd been so proud of herself for managing to follow her mom's recipe precisely, and the concoction had looked pretty damn drool inducing when she'd put it in the oven), she'd discovered one small detail she'd forgotten: to grease the pan.

She had been mortified when, upon trying to cut and extract a piece for her companion, the lasagna had stuck to the pan and the perfect square she'd cut had unraveled.

The more she'd tried to salvage the dish, the more ruined it had become and she'd just waited for Miranda to bite her head off for inviting her on a date and destroying it. Or worse, get up and leave and never come back.

But then Miranda, ever unpredictable, had defied her expectations. She'd started laughing. Honest-to-god laughter, which Andy had never heard from her before. Nothing like the fake, scary laugh she offered to people she hated.

And Andy had joined her in laughing about her stupid mistake before extending a fork to her. They'd proceeded to eat the lasagna straight out of the pan, and by the end of the night, Miranda had complimented her on the meal. And thanked her very thoroughly.

A knock on her window startled her, but when she turned her head and saw Miranda, she relaxed and nodded mutely. Miranda nodded right back before rounding the car to the passenger seat and entering. Luckily, she knew Andy well enough to not say anything.

Andy didn't know how long she'd been sitting in their rented car in the driveway, wearing her pajamas, but in that time Miranda had apparently woken up. She wondered if the twins had, too.

She wondered if Miranda had talked to her parents in her search for Andy. Probably. She hoped they hadn't said anything offensive--or more offensive--to her, but Miranda didn't look too irked. Well, no more than usual. Maybe her parents were still shaken from her little outburst earlier, which hadn't exactly helped her case of not changing for the worse.

But she really hadn't. Miranda, if anything, had been making her better, since she'd started working for her even. They'd been making each other better.

Andy sighed and leaned her head back against the headrest. This was such a mess.

"Maybe it was a mistake to come here after all," she murmured, her eyes closed.

"Do you really think that or are you saying that to make me feel good?"

"No, I really mean that," she insisted, turning to Miranda with a frown. "Why would that make you feel good?"

"Because then I'd be able to say, 'I told you so.'" She gave her a penetrating look.

Andy sighed again and returned her head to the headrest, staring at the car ceiling. "I think it was too soon."

"It's been almost a year, Andrea. If they still can't accept this, then that's on them, not us."

"I know, but I... I wanted them to like you. All three of you. I really did." Despite herself, she felt a lump in her throat and swallowed around it.

"Well," Miranda said softly. "We don't always get what we want, do we?"

Andy shook her head slowly. "No, I guess we don't."

"Give them more time," Miranda added, though she didn't sound quite convinced herself. "If they come around, then they'll come around. And if they don't... well, that's their loss."

"I guess," Andy repeated hollowly.

They fell into another silence until: "If you want, I can call my assistant, have her arrange for an earlier flight home." The words came slowly and carefully, as if Miranda was testing each one in her mouth. Her voice was softer than usual. "Would you like that?"

Andy gulped again. She hadn't seen her parents in so long, although if she'd expected this meeting to make up for it, it had possibly tarnished her perception of them instead. And their perception of her, apparently.

They would probably be devastated if she up and left earlier than planned, but then again, maybe not. And besides, why should she care? Why should she submit herself to another two days of feeling like a prisoner in her parents' house, avoiding any conversation with them because it would just mean hearing again about how much she was disappointing them?

They were her family and she still loved them--she always would--but this wasn't what a family was supposed to act like. _This_ was what a family was supposed to act like, she thought, looking sideways at Miranda.

They shared a look, Miranda patiently waiting for her answer. Her eyes were warm and kind--something very, very few people ever got to see--and it gave Andy some comfort. She knew Miranda was dying to go home, knew she'd never even wanted to come here, but she also knew that she'd accept and respect whatever decision Andy made.

Rolling her head back, she closed her eyes again and nodded. She wanted to go home. This wasn't it anymore; Miranda and the kids--they were home.

When she felt Miranda's delicate touch on her hand, she flipped it and intertwined their fingers, holding on tightly

***

Lunch was considerably more tense and uncomfortable than dinner the night before, and even the leftover food didn't taste quite as good.

Nobody was talking, not even the twins, who, back home would fill awkward silences with meaningless chatter.

Miranda, however, looked slightly less rigid, probably comforted by the fact they'd been booked for first class on a flight leaving tomorrow morning. Andy didn't look forward to her parents' reaction, but nevertheless, she said, "We're leaving tomorrow."

They both looked up from their plates--the twins, too, probably surprised that someone had spoken.

"What?" her dad asked first.

"But you just got here," her mom said.

"Yeah, and we've been having the time of our lives," Caroline muttered.

"Caroline," Miranda said sharply.

Andy ignored all of them. "We're going to pack our things after lunch and sleep in a hotel."

Her dad dropped his fork onto his plate. "You can't be serious."

"I am, Dad. This whole visit was a mistake to begin with. We never should have come."

"Andy," he said, surprisingly level-headed. "Families have disagreements. They argue. It doesn't mean we just call it quits. We can work it out."

"No," she persisted. "No, we can't. Not until you accept who I am now and the life I've chosen to live."

"Is this an ultimatum?" There was an edge to his voice.

"I don't know, are you saying you can't accept it?" she countered and they stared at each other, neither blinking.

Then her mom calmly spoke up, "I ran out of bacon this morning making breakfast," and everyone turned to look at her because what the fuck? But she went on, unbothered, "I'm going to go to the grocery store. Miranda, you'll come with me."

And just like that, she got up in the middle of lunch and headed upstairs, leaving everyone bewildered. Miranda looked about ready to kill herself. Or Andy's mom.

***

Much to Andy's astonishment, Miranda had actually left the house with her mom, and Andy hoped like hell that an officer wouldn't knock on the door in the upcoming hour to inform them of a murder-suicide.

Now she was sitting on the porch swing, waiting for their return. Their suitcase had already been packed and she'd told the girls to do the same, but they were probably going through her old things again.

When she heard footsteps, she looked up, but it was just her dad exiting the front door and heading toward her.

Oh, god, she so wasn't prepared for another round. Couldn't he just let it go? She, Miranda, and the girls would go home, her parents would call every few days to talk about her job and Cincinnati gossip, and they could all happily pretend nothing had happened.

It sounded like a miserable life, hiding her relationship all over again--or, rather, pretending it didn't exist because the people closest to her couldn't come to terms with it. She and Miranda weren't ashamed of what they had. Maybe it was too much to ask the rest of the world to be happy for them.

Exhaling a breath, her dad sat heavily next to her, making the swing rock slightly. She looked straight ahead at the cars in the driveway, hoping that if she ignored him long enough, he would just leave her alone.

Yet, he took a deep breath and said, "I guess this weekend didn't go the way either of us had planned."

"How did you plan it?" she asked coldly. Crap, she was supposed to be ignoring him.

To her surprise, he replied, "I'm... not sure, actually," and something in his voice made her ignore herself and look at him. "I can't say I intended to welcome her with a hug, but... I-I don't know. I guess we should have been more open-minded."

"Yeah." Andy nodded solemnly. "You should have."

"Andy, I'm trying to apologize." Her eyebrows rose. "Not for... I'm apologizing for my behavior, that was inappropriate. But, Andy, I still stand behind what I said. Most of it."

She turned away and leaned her head back, but he continued nonetheless, "I don't think you're a right fit for each other. You have to get where we're coming from. You're our only child and we worry about you--"

"But you don't have to," she argued. "I'm an adult. I can make my own choices."

"I'm aware of that, but that doesn't mean I don't worry anyway. This woman made your life hell when you worked for her. We used to get e-mails from you in the middle of the night, telling us how badly she was treating you. Then, one day, out of nowhere, we get a phone call and you tell us that you're dating her? That you _have_  been dating her for five months? Can you imagine how that made us feel? You used to tell us everything."

Andy sighed because she could. And she probably could have a lot sooner if they hadn't gone for attack mode straight away. She knew that she had, too, though. "I guess I could have done some things a little differently," she conceded.

Her dad nodded mutely. He didn't look at her when he asked a few minutes later, "Is she really good to you?"

Andy's heart almost burst. This could be the breakthrough she'd been waiting for, a crack in the wall. Maybe he was finally willing to listen. "She is," she gushed. "I'm so happy with her, Dad."

He didn't seem too happy about her answer, but he also didn't try to rebuke her. "And the kids, are they... they look like good kids."

Andy decided not to mention that the girls' good behavior this weekend had been a freak occurane, so she said instead, "They are," which was the truth, mostly, once you got to know them.

"I don't know how you can tell them apart. They both look the same to me."

At that, she actually laughed. It felt good to finally release some of the tension. "Well, I couldn't either at first. Then I noticed that Caroline has a dimple on her right cheekbone and Cassidy has an identical one on her left one."

"Huh." He nodded, probably making a mental note to look more closely the next time he saw them.

Upon noticing the identifying marks the first time, Andy hadn't let on because the twins had been so impressed with her impeccable ability to distinguish between them without even knowing them, which had earned her some crucial points.

When she'd finally remarked on her findings months later, Caroline had told her that they'd been born conjoined and the marks had been the incision spot. Cassidy had excitedly agreed, but their smiles had been sly enough that she'd known they were pulling her leg without even asking Miranda.

She continued, "But now I just tell them apart because they're actually so different. Cassidy was the first to like me, pretty much immediately, and she's always the peace-maker and problem-solver. She hates confrontations and she doesn't like seeing people get hurt." Well, unless they're her mother's assistants. Andy still hadn't forgotten how the twins had almost gotten her fired once.

"Caroline has no filter." She chuckled to herself. "She speaks first and then she thinks. And she can be a little mean sometimes... like her mother." She threw her dad a cautious look. "But she's so smart, she could beat even you at thinking games. And she's super protective of her sister. Like, Cassidy still sleeps with her stuffed sheep, but she's really embarrassed about it, so Caroline pretends that it's her doll and keeps it in her bed during the day."

She hadn't realized a big, fond smile had broken out on her face until she caught the thoughtful look her dad was giving her. "Anyway, they're great kids," she finished lamely.

"Sounds like it," he said, still looking thoughtful. Then he shook his head, seemingly snapping out of something. "I... I didn't realize."

"Yeah, well, you have to get to know them. They're kind of a handful at first, but--"

"No, I mean I didn't realize that... those people have become your family."

Andy closed her mouth. Then: "Oh." She searched his face for disapproval, but for the first time found none. He did look a little baffled, but baffled she could work with. "Y-yeah, I guess they have."

They really had. Somewhere down the line, maybe even before Andy had moved into the townhouse, the Priestlys had become the most important people in her life. And even though she and Miranda weren't married and she wasn't the twins' mother and would never try to replace either of their parents, she knew that they'd become a family. Absolutely.

Her dad took another deep breath and released it shakily. "There's really nothing I can say to change your mind, is there?" She shook her head, hoping he wouldn't try.

"And you're still leaving today?"

"I-I think it's for the best."

He nodded, probably because he still wasn't thrilled about hosting Miranda in his house. But then he said, "Well, maybe in the future, you know, some other holiday or something, Mom and I could take a little trip to New York? You could show us around, hopefully this time without your job getting in the way," he tried to joke and Andy pretended to find it funny. "And maybe we could have a... a reintroduction to Miranda."

"Really?" Andy askd hopefully. He nodded. "Do you think Mom would be okay with that?"

"I think she would," he answered levelly and she wondered what he knew that she didn't.

"I would love that," she said and gave him a genuine smile.


	6. Bacon Comes from Pigs

So far, Miranda and Kate had gone through two aisles and Kate had put in her cart pretty much everything but bacon.

"I thought we were shopping for bacon," Miranda said through gritted teeth.

"We're on our way," Kate answered nonchalantly and dumped two jars of mayonnaise in the cart. Miranda hated mayonnaise.

People kept staring at her, as though they knew she didn't belong in a Midwestern town's grocery store (to be fair, she also couldn't remember the last time she'd visited one in New York). The Ohio air was probably harming her skin.

"They're staring because you're wearing a huge fur coat in the middle of the grocery store," Kate said dryly and Miranda wondered if the uncanny ability to read her thoughts was actually genetic.

"Well, I'm definitely not going to put it in that filthy cart."

"You probably shouldn't be wearing a fur coat to begin with. That poor animal..."

"Yes, I'm a horrible person. I thought we'd established that," Miranda replied icily. Then she glared at Kate. "You do know that bacon comes from pigs."

Kate actually chuckled. "I know you probably don't want to be here right now, Miranda."

"Oh, you picked up on that?"

"But my daughter and I have always been very close and I won't let this thing"--she jerked her head toward Miranda--"come between us."

Miranda pursed her lips. "If you're asking me to leave Andrea, you're wasting your time."

Kate stopped mid-aisle, causing her to do the same, and looked at her, Miranda realized, for the first time since they'd started their silent walk from the house to the store. "I'm not going to ask you to leave her."

Then she continued pushing the cart, Miranda following, surprised. "I know my Andy--I'm guessing you do, too,"--she gestured with her hand in Miranda's general direction--"and we both know that she always ends up doing what she wants."

Did she ever, Miranda thought, then hid her grin.

"But the fact of the matter is, my relationship with my daughter was a lot better before you came on the scene."

Miranda frowned. "Did you ever stop to consider that it derailed because of your attitude and not me?" She threw a bag of rice into the cart, just to get on Kate's nerves. Kate glared.

"I agree that Andrea was the one to change the rules of the game," she continued before Kate could respond, "but as her mother, it was your job to support and hear her out before making her feel bad about herself. That's what I would have done with my children."

"Don't tell me how to parent my child," Kate shot, but Miranda was unfazed.

"You dragged me with you on this unnecessary trip, so now you'll hear me out." Kate glared harder, but kept her mouth shut. "I will not justify my actions to you. I will not give you details of my personal love life and I will not beg you to let me be with your daughter. I don't care who you are and what you mean to Andrea. Andrea is a big girl and she's made a choice; she chose me and I will honor that choice and try not to make her regret it, which is all I'm going to say about that.

"Now, I couldn't care less any which way, but Andrea would like you and your husband to be part of her life-- _our_ life. If you decide to go against her wishes because of some petty notion about a person you don't even know, that's your choice and we will respect that, but just know that it _will_ hurt your daughter."

Kate gulped visibly and the lines around her lips and eyes began to smooth out. Miranda finished, "But I know Andrea would very much prefer that you stay in her life. I won't ever make her choose between us, but she just might. She's very strong-minded, your daughter."

A gush of air left Kate's lips in a whoosh. "That she is," she confirmed with a nod. Then she shook her head, picking a box of mac & cheese off a shelf. Miranda doubted the Sachs couple ate store-bought mac & cheese. Or any mac & cheese. "I'll tell you, I never thought Miranda Priestly would lecture me about my own daughter."

"Well." Miranda squared her shoulders, pulling her coat closed on her body. "Life is full of surprises, isn't it?"

"Sure is," Kate murmured. Then, more firmly, she added, "How do I know you won't hurt her?"

"You don't," Miranda said bitterly. "Our relationship is none of your business."

Kate's lips pursed and her features hardened again so Miranda added in a softer tone, "Every relationship has its ups and downs--I should know, I've been in quite a few that had more downs than ups." Kate's jaw clenched--the Sachses didn't like the fact that Andrea apparently hadn't taken Miranda's virginity, or something along those lines--but she ignored it and continued seriously, "But I care about Andrea very deeply. I can't promise to never hurt her, but I won't do it intentionally."

She stared long and hard at Kate as she seemed to mull her proclamation over in her head, and tried to shoo away the pang of vulnerability she felt at doing exactly what she'd said moments before she wouldn't do.

Kate, however, didn't push further, much to her relief, but though she didn't sound braced for a fight anymore, she also wasn't exactly letting her off the hook easily. "None of this means I'm ever going to like you or the fact that you're with my daughter, mind you."

 _Been there, done that,_ Miranda thought. So long as she no longer tried to meddle and make Andrea feel like shit. "I assure you, the feeling is mutual."

Kate hummed her response. "Is there anything else you'd like to say to me?"

"Yes. You don't need so many wallpapers in your house."

She turned fully in Miranda's direction, her eyes big. In that moment, she looked very much like Andrea, except shorter. With her 4-inch heels, Miranda was taller than her and felt more powerful than she did at a run-through.

"Noted." Kate nodded again, looking surprised and kind of impressed.

They strolled through another aisle before she spoke up again, very business-like, "I would like my daughter to stay the whole weekend, as planned. If that means you, too, then so be it."

Miranda would very much not like that, but if Andrea did, she would stay, for her. "You'll have to speak to her about it. She's very upset with you."

"Fine. And if I ever find out you hurt her, I will kill you." She wasn't looking at Miranda, which somewhat took the sting out, but the tone was deadly. Miranda should work with her on that; perhaps they had some things in common after all. Namely, wanting to protect Andrea.

"Fine," she answered. Then repeated Kate's earlier question, "Anything else?"

"Yes. Andrea is my only child. One of these days, I would like to see grandkids."

Ah, that was a tricky one. Miranda knew that Andrea didn't want kids (which was just as well because Miranda loved her girls, but would never go through that whole process again, especially at her age), but then she wasn't surprised she hadn't informed her parents since they hadn't been very supportive about most other decisions she'd made in her adult life. But she told the truth, "That is a decision for Andrea and me to make and for you to stay out of."

Kate didn't seem pacified by her answer and looked to be picking and discarding a dozen responses in her head so Miranda continued, "But if you ever come to visit or--" She pursed her lips and cracked her neck. "Or if we ever... come back _here_ ," she forced the last word out, "then the twins are a delight to spend time with."

She watched Kate ponder her words before nodding slightly. "I would like that," she said more softly and then actually gave Miranda a small smile. "They look like great kids."

Finally something they could agree upon. "They are."

"Well," Kate announed, "I think we're ready to go home now."

Miranda frowned. "What about your bacon?"

"Oh, I have a whole pack in the fridge," she replied breezily and proceeded to push her cart toward the end of the aisle. Miranda followed, gritting her teeth.

***

Upon returning to the Sachs residence, Miranda was filled with horror at the sight awaiting her.

Both cars had been moved out of the driveway and into the street, revealing a basketball hoop she hadn't noticed before, into which now her daughters, her girlfriend, and her girlfriend's father were throwing a ball while screaming and sweating. Just how long had she been gone?

"It's my turn!" she heard Caroline cry out while Richard Sachs slipped the ball into the hoop.

"Sorry, kid, this is a tall-people-only game." Andrea smirked before snatching the ball from her father.

"Andyyy!"

"Well," Kate said from beside Miranda, carrying exactly zero shopping bags post their pointless trip, "looks like Richard finally has a team. He's been looking for someone to play with."

Miranda rolled her eyes and strode toward the driveway-turned-basketball-court. She stopped when the ball rolled toward her, coming to a halt at the tip of her shoe. Then the panting players noticed her and Andrea flashed her a big grin. "Hey, you're back."

Miranda arched an eyebrow at her. Clearly a lot had changed in the time she'd spent in her first grocery store in years.

Abandoning the game, Andrea approached her, away from everyone else's earshot. Her bangs were sticking to her sweaty forehead. "So," she murmured, "how'd it go? What happened?"

"It went fine. Your mother and I had a mother-to-mother discussion." Which was all she would say about that, at least for now, out here with the entire family around. Andrea would likely pry the information out of her later.

She seemed to read her mind, of course, and smiled again. "My dad's cool."

"Is he," Miranda responded dryly.

"I mean, he's okay with this." She gestured between them. "With us. Kind of. I think. We talked and I think he's starting to come around."

Well, about damn time. Andrea looked relieved, and happier than she had since yesterday morning, which made Miranda happy, too. "Good. I'm glad."

"I'm glad you're back," Andrea said in a lower tone, coming closer.

"Andrea." Miranda wasn't sure if she was trying to object or what, but Andrea was beginning to look like herself again and her face was glowing with more than just sweat and Miranda, all of a sudden, really couldn't give two shits about their surroundings.

She grabbed her by the back of her neck and pulled her in for a sweet kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the last one!


	7. Worse than Any Mole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why did I think that moles and beavers were the same animal?

It turned out that "Duh, of course we unpacked" had been code for "We left every single clothing garment we'd brought [which, as it turned out, was quite a lot for four days] in our suitcases."

That's not to say that the twins' suitcases had actually stayed neat and ready to haul downstairs, because apparently their version of unpacking was rummaging through the piles of clothing until they found the specific item they'd been looking for and then leaving the suitcase looking like a mole had gone through it. Only those two were worse than any mole.

So now Andy was in charge of repacking their suitcases while the twins were off god-knows-where doing god-knows-what. Probably finally allowing themselves to stir some trouble since the air was beginning to clear.

"Do you usually get tasked with looking after her children?"

Zipping up the first suitcase, Andy looked up to find her mom standing in the doorway. Her eyebrow was raised. "No one asked me to do this," she murmured, carefully lowering the _Louis Vuitton_ to the floor. She turned to the other suitcase.

"That was a joke," her mom said, stepping further into the room. "One in poor taste, apparently."

"I'm not ready to laugh about this," Andy said stiffly, folding a tutu skirt. Why the hell had Caroline brought a tutu skirt?

"I know."

Her mom used her foot the move the mattress on the floor and sat on the edge of the bed, next to the suitcase. "Uh, do you need help putting that away?" Andy asked.

"No, I've got it. I've got it." She smiled, then looked around the room. "God, look how this room has changed. I barely come in here anymore."

"Yeah, well, neither do I."

"Remember all the slumber parties you used to have here? You had Lily over almost every weekend and you'd try on every outfit in your closet." She paused and got a thoughful look on her face. "I wonder, is that when you realized you were attracted to girls? Were you and Lily ever--"

Andy sighed and let go of the shirt she was folding. "Mom, what is this about? Are we having a heart-to-heart now?" she asked exasperatedly.

"Well, I'm just interested--" her mom began slowly.

"You had ten months to be interested." She had the grace to look embarrassed, casting her eyes downward and nodding. "I don't know what you and Miranda talked about, but you still haven't apologized to me for the things you said last night."

"You're right," she said softly. Her eyes lifted back up to Andy's and she still looked extremely uncomfortable, but also remorseful. "I'm sorry."

Sighing again, Andy pushed the suitcase against the wall and sat down. "You called my relationship perverted."

"I did," she confirmed. "I didn't mean it."

"Didn't you? Because it sounded an awful lot like you did."

"It-- Andy, I..." This time her mom sighed. "You have to understand, this is hard for me--"

"Why? We're not hurting you."

"It doesn't matter. You're still my daughter and every time I see you making a mistake--" Andy opened her mouth so she quickly corrected herself, "or think you're making a mistake, it does hurt me--"

"But Mom, I--" this time her mom cut her off, holding a hand up.

"Let me finish. This isn't the life I pictured for you. I thought you and Nate would get married and give me grandkids and I could tell all my friends about my daughter, the famous journalist. But I guess it's not up to me, and I should let you live your own life. I may not agree with everything you do, but I really am sorry for the way I spoke to you last night. That was _my_ mistake."

"But Mom," Andy said slowly. "I want you to agree with what I do because..." She shrugged. "There's nothing wrong with it. I want you to see that. That's why I brought Miranda here, so you could see how amazing she is, that there's way more to her than what you read in the tabloids and what I told you as her assistant. She's not like that with people she loves, and she loves me."

"I know she does," her mom said, to her surprise. What _had_ she and Miranda talked about? Because last night she had been adamant that Miranda was taking advantage of her. As if sensing her bafflement, her mom added, "I can see that now."

"So..." Andy cocked her head to the side, trying to prompt some more out of her.

Her mom sighed again. "Look, I'm probably never going to get along with Miranda." With the look on her face and the tone of her voice, that "probably" sounded like a "definitely," to Andy's chagrin. "But I don't want you to feel like you have to choose. I want you to be happy and have a good life, and if that means a life with Miranda and her family..." She spread her arms by her sides, looking resigned. But not as upset as Andy would have expected her to be.

She looked cautious, trying to take Andy's hand in hers, and Andy let her. "But I want to be part of that life. Me and Dad. We don't want you to shut us out."

"Mom, that doesn't really depend on me," Andy murmured.

"I know." She nodded. "And I'll try very hard to be supportive."

Looking up into her eyes, Andy asked, "You will?"

"I will," she said. "If you say that Miranda is good for you, then I'll have to take you at your word."

"Oh, Mom." Andy let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "She is. She's the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Her mom gave her a small smile in response. It looked forced and like it was causing her genuine pain, but it was a smile nonetheless. Then she said uncertainly, "You could stay, you know. Stay the whole weekend."

"Oh, well," Andy stammered. "I mean, we're already booked on a flight," she said with a grimace, not mentioning that Miranda Priestly could cancel their tickets with one phone call. Because her parents were now gingerly approving, but it still felt very fragile, very precarious, and a lot could happen in two days. Andy didn't want to risk it.

Her mom seemed to understand this because she didn't push, even though it looked like she really wanted to.

"We could come visit again some other time, though," Andy tried, not sure how Miranda would feel about that idea. Actually, very sure of exactly how Miranda would feel about it.

Her mom looked doubtful, but she said, "That'd be nice." Then she looked like she was debating saying something, but eventually asked, "Can I hug you?" Relieved, Andy rolled her eyes and scooted closer, into her mom's arms.

"Come here," her mom said. The hug she gave her was tighter than their reunion embrace the day before and she whispered into her hair, "I love you so much. You're my baby and I'll always love you, no matter what."

And despite herself, Andy felt her eyes sting and tightened her hold, sniffing her mom's familiar scent. "I love you, too," she whispered back.

***

"Can I pick the music?" Cassidy asked enthusiastically.

"No," Andy and Miranda answered simultaneously. She was deeply into Britney Spears at the moment, and they were already getting enough headaches at home, hearing the music coming out of her room at full volume. Even Caroline was beginning to lose her mind.

But Andy did turn on the radio to a music station so she and Miranda could talk in semi-privacy.

"So what did you and my mom talk about on your shopping-less shopping trip?" she asked in a low voice.

"You," Miranda answered simply.

"Really? Not the _Cincinnati Bengals_?" She received a glare in response. " _Are_ you going to tell me?"

Miranda cast a glance at the backseat before replying, "Not now." Fair enough. "What did you talk about?"

"Deflection. I like it."

"Andrea."

She snickered. "The _Cincinnati Bengals_." Miranda leaned her head against her headrest and rolled her eyes so hard Andy wondered if she could see inside her own brain. "Maybe we should talk about it later."

"You brought it up," Miranda murmured.

She continued to drive and listen to the music while Miranda turned to look out the window, most likely not committing every detail to memory even though she'd probably never agree to return there.

Andy lay one hand on her shoulder and squeezed. "We're okay." She smiled. "We're going to be just fine."

"Of course we are," Miranda replied impatiently, but covered her hand with her own nevertheless.

This trip hadn't gone exactly according to plan, and her relationship with her parents might not go back to the way it had been for a while longer. It would probably take them some more time to feel comfortable with the idea of her and Miranda (perhaps in a few years, when they saw that this wasn't just a game that either of them had gotten tired of; that Miranda was serious about Andy and Andy was serious about her), but she felt that they were now on the right path. Andy was willing to take it slowly--if they were.

All in all, not a time (and gas) wasted.

She wondered what next year's Thanksgiving would bring. And the one after that and the one after that.

Those things were unpredictable, but one thing was: she loved Miranda like hell, and Miranda loved her right back.

 

_**End.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THAT'S IT!
> 
> Thank you all for taking this journey with me and any other cliché you can come up with.
> 
> But in all seriousness, I enjoyed writing this story (here's a little secret: it was actually completed and edited before I started posting) and I hope you enjoyed reading it just as much.
> 
> As usual, kudos and comments are always appreciated. I love hearing what you guys think.
> 
> Peace out!


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